


we're gonna rock tonight

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [25]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Happy Birthday?” Nicole says slowly.Waverly’s eyes widen. “Happy Birthday?”Nicole looks over Waverly’s face, her smile fading as she searches for any sign of excitement in Waverly’s eyes. “I should have gone with Rainbow Bright,” she mutters under her breath.





	we're gonna rock tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 24th birthday, Waverly Earp. 
> 
> Set in September, 1996.

**"Rock! Rock! Till You Drop" Def Leppard, 1983  
** _ Hold onto your hat, hold onto your heart. Ready, get set to tear this place apart. Don't need a ticket, only place in town that'll take you up to heaven and never bring you down. Anything goes, anything goes… _

Nicole steers her cruiser over towards the side of the road, riding slowly along the curb as she rolls down her window.

Mercedes keeps walking, her heels clacking along the sidewalk noisily. She switches her purse to her other arm.

Nicole sighs and rolls her eyes, turning Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine” down. She knows that Mercedes can see her; she can see the smirk on Mercedes’s face as she swings her purse back and forth. Mercedes stretches her stride out, walking a little quicker.

“Mercedes,” Nicole says. “Don’t make me pull this car over.”

Mercedes lifts her head a little higher. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

Nicole leans back into her seat, one hand on her steering wheel and the other hanging out of the window, tapping against the side of her cruiser. “Mercedes, just come here.”

Mercedes doesn’t break her stride. “I’m in the middle of a showing.”

“It’s your lunch.”

Mercedes narrows her eyes and turns her head slightly. “How do you know that?”

“I observe things,” Nicole says lightly. “And I called your office. Lisa said you were headed to lunch.”

Mercedes stops walking and Nicole pumps the brakes, the car jerking forward in place. Mercedes steps off the sidewalk, bending down and leaning in through the window. Nicole slides back, shaking her head.

“Hey, Loverboy,” Mercedes coos.

Nicole feels her cheeks burn and she claps her hand down over her shoulder mic, even though she knows no one at the station can hear her unless she depresses the ‘talk’ button. “I’m on duty.”

Mercedes shrugs a shoulder. “Has that ever stopped me?”

“Sadly, no.”

Mercedes reaches into the car and thumbs the edge of Nicole’s collar. “Coffee,” she says, winking.

Nicole groans as she makes eye contact with Sharon Coulter stopped outside of the drugstore, eyes narrowed as she peers in through the windshield of Nicole’s cruiser. Nicole can practically see her click her tongue in disapproval before she takes off at a brisk pace, headed back towards her office across the street. She knows by the time she gets back to the station, Linda will have gotten a call from Sharon about Mercedes Gardner hanging on the shiny new cruiser Nicole had been gifted with after the town fair bolstered enough of a budget to purchase one.

“Like I give a good goddamn about it,” Linda always grumbled. “Maybe if she paid more attention to doing her job and less on who's doing who in town, we’d get somewhere.”

Nicole always flushed. “I’m not-”

Linda waved a hand at her. “Of course you aren’t. Practically married to Waverly, aren’t you? Somehow Sharon forgets that. Hell, Mercedes is married to your brother.” Linda sighed. “Sharon just loves to gossip.”

Nicole checks her rearview mirror, then her side ones. “Do you have them?” she asks, her voice low.

Mercedes looks around, too, checking the near-empty street. Besides Sharon, there’s barely anyone walking around at 1230 on a Tuesday afternoon. The lunch hour is nearly over, and the rush of people filing in and out of The Patch has settled down. Nicole has been patrolling through town to kill some time until her check deposited into the bank. Chrissy had called to let her know the money was in her account, and she had just finished up there, calling Mercedes’s office before leaving the bank.

Mercedes opens her purse and pulls out a blank envelope, tipping it into Nicole’s lap with a flick of her finger. “It’s all there.”

Nicole leans across the cruiser and pops the glove compartment open, pulling out the envelope she stashed in there after she left the bank. She hands the Purgatory Bank and Loan envelope to Mercedes. Mercedes slips it into her purse quickly, relatching the chunky gold buckle.

“And you got-”

“Loverboy,” Mercedes drawls. “Do you trust me?”

“Trust you?” Nicole repeats with a snort. “Not always.”

Mercedes pulls back, a hand on her chest. Her mouth is twisted in disbelief and she scoffs. “How rude.”

“Okay, Stephanie Tanner,” Nicole grumbles.

“I’m more of a Jesse, I think,” Mercedes says thoughtfully.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “So does that make Nathan your Becky?”

“Unless you’re offering to play the part,” Mercedes says. 

Nicole opens her mouth to fire back, but something catches her eye through her windshield, just hidden behind her rearview mirror. Jonas comes closer, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, a red bandana tied through the buckle on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Mercedes,” he calls.

Mercedes stiffens. Just barely, but enough that Nicole catches the way her body goes rigid for just a second. She makes a show of rolling her eyes, but the bravado that was there a minute ago is gone now, a slight fear lingering in the corner instead. “Jonas,” she says tightly.

Nicole puts the cruiser in park, turning the engine off. She pockets the keys and pushes open the driver’s door, stepping out on the street.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a-”

Nicole turns to face Jonas, hooking her thumbs into her belt and widening her stance.

Jonas steps back a half an inch, his eyes darkening. “Officer Haught.”

“Problem, Jonas?”

Jonas shakes his head, putting his hands up in surrender. “Just walking by.”

“You look like you’re standing still to me,” she says. She looks him up and down, eyes narrowing at the noticeable bulge in his pocket. She’s heard things about the Revenants lately; that they may be starting their own offshoot of the Highway 63 Trade, a suspected drug ring. She hasn’t heard of anything big, like heroin or cocaine - that’s the big cities. But there’s been bulletins on the CPIC that weaker stuff, like marijuana, is starting to filter through the sleepy little towns off of Highway 63. 

It’s always been here, Nedley had told her when the first reports came in. It’s just never been as frequent. 

“Saying hi to a friend,” Jonas says. He leers at Mercedes.

“Hi,” Nicole says pointedly.

Jonas continues to look at Mercedes for a moment before he shrugs a shoulder. “See you around, ‘Cedes.” He turns sharply on his heel and heads back down the street in the same direction he came from, ducking down one of the alleys that connects Main Street to the smaller roads. 

Mercedes glares at the back of Jonas’s head as he walks away. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Ever since he broke up with Beth, he’s been hanging around.”

“He’s been stalking you?” Nicole asks, already pulling her notebook out of her breast pocket.

“No,” Mercedes says quickly. “He wouldn’t. He knows Nathan would punch him in the face.”

Nicole frowns. “Nathan shouldn’t be getting into any fights.”

“It’s more like, he shows up sometimes,” Mercedes continues over Nicole. “Like, he’ll walk by the office and pretend to be looking at the posters in the window. Or we’ll swing by The Patch for something to eat and he’ll be there.”

“That’s stalking,” Nicole says slowly. She puts her notebook back into her pocket, but makes a mental note to herself to start swinging by Jonas’s place and keeping her eye out for him while she’s on patrol.

Mercedes waves her concern away. “Listen, I’m meeting Nathan for lunch. He picked up Hayley from my mom’s. Do you want to come with us?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’m on patrol. I was going to take my lunch later, when Wynonna’s done with the lunch crowd.” She checks her watch. “But we’re still on for tomorrow?”

“You bring the beer, I’ll supply the baby,” Mercedes says.

Nicole smiles softly. “I do love that baby.”

“Babysit  _ whenever _ you want,” Mercedes breathes. “Please.”

“Maybe next weekend,” Nicole says.

“Because you’re busy this weekend,” Mercedes says, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Nicole rolls her eyes. Her radio cackles softly, Linda coming through the speaker.

“Go for Haught,” she calls back, turning away from Mercedes.

“Haught, I have a 10-14 for you.”

Nicole takes a deep breath. “Mrs. Dray?”

She hears Linda laugh on the end of the receiver. “I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

“10-4,” Nicole murmurs. She flashes Mercedes an apologetic smile.

Mercedes waves her away. “Tomorrow night. I was serious about that beer. I won’t let Nathan keep any in the house while I’m breast-feeding, so he claims to be suffering.” She rolls her eyes. “Men are dweebs.”

Nicole shrugs, fighting a smile. “Wouldn’t know. Never tried that.”

Mercedes shoves at her shoulder lightly and then wiggles her fingers in a wave, taking off towards The Patch again.

Nicole slides back into her cruiser, turning the car on the Guns N’ Roses cassette up. She puts her blinker on and checks her mirror. She pulls off the curb and eases the cruiser down Main Street. She goes past The Patch and Shorty’s, the sun too bright for the neon lights to shine. Her eyes stray to the envelope on the passenger seat of her car. 

“What’re you getting Waverly for her birthday?” Wynonna had asked. 

Nicole sighed. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“You only have a month,” Wynonna pointed out.

Nicole sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “I’ve been so wrapped up in this community partnership program, I didn’t even have a chance to plan something big.”

Wynonna raised an eyebrow. “Nicole Marie Haught.  _ You _ didn’t plan something big?”

Nicole picked at the napkin she had under her milkshake glass. She ripped off a corner and wadded it into a small ball, throwing it in Wynonna’s direction. “Can it.”

“But however will you top last year?” Wynonna continued, putting on an accent Nicole couldn’t place. 

Nicole narrowed her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m making fun of that putt of a party,” Wynonna corrected.

“It wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” Nicole insisted.

Wynonna raised an eyebrow slowly. “Were we at the same party?”

“It was a  _ She-Ra _ theme party,” Nicole said. “What part of that was putt?”

“Uh… The whole thing?”

Nicole glared at Wynonna. “It was Waverly’s favorite show when it aired. And those decorations were just sitting on the discount shelf at that party store. They’d been there for years. I couldn’t waste that opportunity.” She shook her head. 

“Someone shoulda wasted you before you went and blew your bank account on cardboard cutouts and all of those colored streamers.”

Nicole thought about the party and how everyone had laughed when they walked into The Patch to find pictures on the wall and masks on the tables. She had spent the night picking at her thumbs, hovering near Waverly, trying to make sure she was having a good time. She remembered Wynonna, Mercedes, Rosita, and Chrissy all giggling about how silly a  _ She-Ra _ themed party was, and when she got home that night, she had paced in front of Waverly for nearly ten minutes, working out an apology.

“Baby,” Waverly had whispered, sliding her She-Ra mask back up into her hair. “That was the best birthday I’ve  _ ever _ had.”

“What’re you doing?” Mercedes asked, sliding up at the counter next to Nicole, pulling Nicole out of her head. Mercedes stole a french fry from the basket in front of Nicole. 

“Tell Nicole that Waverly’s birthday party last years was the pits,” Wynonna demanded.

Mercedes winced. “You’re my favorite Haught, but that party was warped.”

“ _ Waverly _ liked it,” Nicole grumbled.

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Waverly is not exactly the standard by which your ‘cool factor’ should be measured.”

“And what is the standard that it should be measured by?” Nicole asked, her voice flat.

“Me. Duh.”

Nicole shrugged. “I still thought it was bitchin’. And so did Waverly.”

Wynonna snorted. “I still think  _ I _ should have been He-Man.”

Nicole pulled back. “Is  _ that _ why you didn’t like the party? Because you wanted to be He-Man?”

Wynonna’s eyes widened. “No way!”

Nicole turned to Mercedes. “That’s why she hated the party.”

Mercedes looked back and forth between them. “You two are total dweebs. How did I never know that?”

“I’m not a dweeb,” Nicole defended.

“Yes, you are,” Wynonna muttered.

“You are, Loverboy,” Mercedes agreed.

Wynonna turned in her seat, leaning back against the counter of The Patch. “Nicole hasn’t come up with any lame ideas for Waverly’s birthday yet.”

Mercedes frowned. “Isn’t that in, like, a few weeks?”

“A month,” Wynonna said. “What’re you going to do this year?  _ Rainbow Bright _ ?”

Nicole flipped a french fry at Wynonna. “No.” She sighed. “But I can’t think of anything.”

“Have you guys ever been to a concert?” Mercedes asked. “Nathan took me to see No Doubt in Vancouver last year. That was fun.”

“A concert,” Nicole repeated. “But, like,  _ what _ concert?”

Mercedes shrugged. “What’s a band that she likes? Or, like, means something to you guys?”

Nicole frowned, tapping the bottom of her chin. She sighed loudly. “It’s not like I’d be able to get tickets, anyway. I don’t have a credit card or anything. And bands like Journey don’t just drop into Purgatory.”

Mercedes pulled another fry from the basket and shrugged a second time. “If you find tickets, I’ll buy them. The company has a credit card. You can pay me back.”

Nicole thinks about that for most of the day - through her call to Mrs. Dray and back to the station; through the rest of her paperwork and clocking out; through the small backup of traffic on Main Street as she heads home in her Bonneville. She puts the car in park in the driveway, carefully sliding the envelope into her pocket. Waverly is already home, probably buried in planning. Nicole slowly takes the stairs up to her apartment, fitting her key in the lock, and turning the knob.

“Hey, baby,” Waverly says absently, not looking up from the textbook in front of her. Styx is curled up at her feet, his muzzle in between her ankles as her snores.

Nicole feels the tension of the day drain from her shoulders and her neck. 

The call to Mrs. Dray’s house hadn’t been that elusive raccoon who moved in two falls ago during the Purgatory Fair and just never moved out. It usually is, Nicole will give her that. Today, though, it had been one of the homeless guys from out in Pine Barrens, near the edge of Purgatory, rooting through Mrs. Dray’s uncovered barrels for something to eat.

Nicole had talked to Mrs. Dray about not pressing trespassing charges, and given the guy, Lou, a ride back to the Barrens and a bottle of water from the trunk of her cruiser. He’d fallen a long way in a short time from the guy who fought against Dolls in the Country Club Boxing Championship and Nicole wondered what happened to send him into the woods with the rest of the homeless population.

She hangs her hat by the door and peels off the Sheriff’s Department jacket she didn’t actually need today. “Hey,” she calls back, untying one of her shoes. She kicks it off and wiggles her toes. They’re new shoes, the next model of Oxfords, but she hasn’t broken them in yet, and they’re still stiff around the toes and ankles.

Waverly sticks her tongue out as she drags the tip of a pen across the textbook, underlining something. She gets to the end of the sentence and looks up, smiling. “Hey,” she repeats. “You look beat.”

“I feel it,” Nicole groans. “And I smell like the inside of a trash can.” She leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Waverly’s head. 

Waverly wrinkles her nose and pulls away. “Oh, wow.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Nicole murmurs. “I gave Lou a ride back to the Barrens.”

Waverly’s shoulders slump. “Poor Lou. You know, he used to be a pretty killer businessman.”

Nicole snorts. “He was a con-artist, baby,” she says. She starts undoing the buttons on her uniform shirt. It’ll need to go in the wash.

Waverly waves a hand at her. “He had a legitimate business at  _ first _ ,” she mutters.

Nicole finishes unbuttoning her shirt and peels it off, balling it up and tossing it into the bedroom. Styx’s head lifts at the motion, but he doesn’t get up, putting his head back down on Waverly’s legs instead. Nicole picks at the sleeve of her white undershirt and sniffs it, nose wrinkling. She pulls it out of the waistband of her pants and up over her head.

Waverly wets her bottom lip and wiggles her eyebrows. “So,” she says.

Nicole pauses, her hand on her belt buckle. “So?”

“So my birthday is this weekend,” Waverly says slowly.

Nicole tips her head to the side, fighting a smile. “Is that  _ this _ weekend?”

Waverly nods wordlessly.

“Wow, I would never have guessed,” Nicole continues. She walks across the living room to the edge of the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator. There’s a large calendar Waverly taped to the front, a big red circle around Sunday the 8th. “It’s not like I haven’t been reminded every time I reach in for a can of Orange Crush.” She looks at the wall next to the phone, where Waverly put another calendar. “Or answer the phone.”

“I’d be sad if you forgot,” Waverly sings.

Nicole continues into the bedroom. She pauses in the doorway, making sure that Waverly is still looking  down at her textbook. She pulls the envelope out of her pocket and pulls open her sock drawer, lifting the mat under her socks and underwear. She shoves the envelope in and lays the mat down quickly. She pulls on her old Ratt shirt, running a hand through her hair and shaking it loose. She takes a deep breath and feels the day melting off of her.

“About that,” she calls to Waverly, changing her socks.

“About what?”

Nicole pokes her head back into the living room. “About Sunday.”

Waverly sits up a little, a smile stretching across her face.

“I have to work,” Nicole says slowly, padding into the living room in just her Ratt shirt. “I tried to get out of it, but Conlin’s kid is being baptized, and he can’t get out of that, so…”

Waverly’s shoulders slump and she sinks back into the couch cushion. “Oh.”

Nicole sighs softly and sits on the edge of the couch, burying her feet under Waverly’s thigh. “I’m sorry,” she says.

Waverly gives her a small smile. “It’s cool, baby. I can spend the day with Gus and Wynonna at The Patch or something.”

Nicole buries her hand in Waverly’s hair, hanging long and loose. She scratches softly at Waverly’s head, watching Waverly’s eyes flutter closed for a minute. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

Waverly hums softly until Nicole lets her hand slide out of her hair. “Don’t worry.”

Nicole leans forward, pressing a kiss to Waverly’s forehead. “I swear,” she repeats.

Waverly wrinkles her nose again. “Can you swear to shower, first?”

Nicole laughs and spins, planting her feet on the floor. “For sure. Then dinner?”

Waverly nods absently, already looking down at her textbook again. “You’re cooking,” she says after a minute.

Nicole pumps her fist in victory, already planning what toppings she’ll get on her pizza. She twists the knob in the shower, turning the water on.

“And no pizza!” Waverly hollers.

Nicole groans.

 

-

“Got your concert shirts?” Wynonna asks.

Nicole peels back the top of the duffel bag she’s about to put into her car. “Got it.”

“And the tickets?”

“Check,” Nicole says, feeling her pocket.

“A white undershirt?”

Nicole frowns but nods.

“An iron?”

Nicole rolls her eyes and zips her bag back up, shouldering Wynonna out of the way.

“I’m serious!” Wynonna says, following her. “What if you sit in the car the wrong way and your shirt does that crease thing and then you’re stuck at this concert with a-”

Nicole cuts her off, gently pushing her out of the way of the door so she can shut it. Wynonna follows her around the front of the car, pressing a flat hand against the driver’s door so Nicole can’t get it open. Nicole sighs. 

“Wynonna, come on.”

“Listen, hoser. I’m trying to be  _ helpful _ .”

Nicole takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks at Wynonna. 

Wynonna grins. “Did you remember the iron, though?”

Nicole growls softly and grabs Wynonna’s wrist, pulling her hand off the car. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Stop being an Oscar,” Wynonna says, pulling at Nicole’s shirt.

“Stop touching me,” Nicole fires back, stretching her neck away from Wynonna’s hands.

Wynonna pinches the fabric of the shirt. “Stop fidgeting.”

“Stop  _ touching _ me,” Nicole says, her teeth grinding together.

“Would the both of you start acting like adults,” Gus says, coming up alongside the car. She’s got a case of Orange Crush in her arms, a brown paper bag on top of it. 

Wynonna lets go of Nicole, and Nicole stumbles back a step. 

“Children, both of you,” Gus grumbles. She nods at Nicole. “Where do you want this?”

Nicole glares at Wynonna until Wynonna steps to the side. She grabs the door handle and then pulls the front seat forward, taking the case from Gus and carefully sliding it into the backseat. She debates buckling it in for a minute, but she knows half the case will be gone before they even reach Edmonton. She puts the brown paper bag on the passenger seat.

“You heading out?” Gus asks. She checks her watch. “If you don’t leave soon, you’re going to hit all of that Friday afternoon traffic.”

Nicole nods, checking her own Casio. “I’m headed to pick her up now.”

“Doesn’t she have a class?”

“Her last period is a study hall, and Ms. Daisy said she’d step in and take care of it,” Nicole says. “Something about combining the two classes and letting them get a head start on their weekend homework.”

Wynonna shrugs and Nicole rolls her eyes, wondering why Wynonna asked if she didn’t care about the answer.

Gus claps her on the shoulder, squeezing softly to get her attention. “You sure you don’t want some extra cash so you can stay the night?”

Nicole shakes her head. “No, I’ve got a shift tomorrow, and I’d rather sleep in my own bed.” She pulls the driver’s seat back into place and gets in the car, slamming the door shut. She rolls down the window and hangs an arm out of it, touching her side view mirror and adjusting it. 

Gus nods slowly. “Well, drive safe.”

“Always do,” Nicole says.

“Never,” Wynonna says at the same time.

“Honestly,” Gus mumbles. She looks at Wynonna and nods back towards the front door of The Patch. “Come on, girl. We need to take a look at those books again.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes, but there’s a quick flash of a smile on her face that only happens when Gus asks her to look at the books and crunch some numbers. She slaps her palm down on the top of Nicole’s car, banging it so hard Nicole is sure there’s a dent there.

“Remember every single detail so you can tell me all about it,” Wynonna instructs. She steps off the road and back onto the sidewalk. “I want to know where they’re standing on the stage. I want to know the seconds between each song. I want to know where you stand and how many meters you are from the stage and-and what songs they play for-”

Gus grabs Wynonna by the collar, gently tugging her back as Nicole starts the car.

“I’ll take detailed notes,” Nicole says.

Wynonna’s eyes widen hopefully. “You will?”

Nicole snorts. “No way. Go to your own show.” She glances down at the small notebook on the passenger seat that she threw into the car earlier, so she could write down everything about the concert while she still remembered it in perfect detail.

She pulls up in front of the high school and leaves her car parked out on the curb, taking the stairs to the front door two at a time. The door opens easily and she shakes her head, making a note to talk to the Moody about locking the door during school hours. She checks the hall as soon as she gets into the building and rolls her eyes. No hall monitor, either. If she wasn’t running late, she’d stop in and see Principal Moody now. 

“Officer Haught,” the secretary, Ms. Anderson, says. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to sign Ms. Earp out for the day,” Nicole says.

Ms. Anderson blinks at her for a moment. “I’m sorry, Officer, but she has a class right now.”

“Oh, Nicole,” Ms. Daisy says, coming up behind her. She rests her hand on Nicole’s arm. “I have this, Cathy. I’ll be taking Ms. Earp’s study hall, if that’s okay with you.” She smiles warmly at Ms. Anderson.

Ms. Anderson looks between the two of them before shaking her head and sighing. She lifts the intercom receiver up and holds it to her mouth. “Ms. Earp to the Main Office, please.”

Nicole follows Ms. Daisy out of the office and into the hall again. Ms. Daisy’s hand stays on Nicole’s arm, steering her across the hall. 

“I really appreciate you helping out,” Nicole says. 

Ms. Daisy waves her free hand. “I’m just glad I’m able to help. You were always two of my favorite students, and Waverly is a good friend now. I didn’t realize it was even her birthday until I overheard you three talking at The Patch.” Her hand flexes against Nicole’s arm. “Good timing, huh?”

Nicole smiles gratefully. “None of this would work if I didn’t have help from almost everyone,” she admits. “You’re covering her study hall, the Sheriff let me have the night off in exchange for a double shift tomorrow. Mercedes ordered the tickets over the phone. Wynonna and Gus are looking after our dog.” 

Ms. Daisy tips her head to the side. “You two make it easy to want to help,”

Nicole frowns softly, opening her mouth to ask what that means, when she hears the sound of Waverly’s shoes coming down the tiled floor towards her. She straightens up and Ms. Daisy’s hand slides off her arm. 

“Nicole?” Waverly asks, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“What?” Nicole asks. 

Waverly starts walking a little faster. “Is Gus okay?”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Oh. Yeah. I mean,  _ yes _ . Everything is fine.” She reaches out, finding Waverly’s elbows. “Gus is fine.”

Waverly’s shoulders slump. “Good,” she breathes out. She frowns again. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Ms. Daisy touches Nicole’s arm again, getting her attention. “I’ll talk to you later,” she promises.

Nicole nods. “Thanks, again.”

“Like I said, you two make it easy.” Ms. Daisy smiles at Waverly. “Enjoy yourself."

Waverly watches her go, staring after her a minute before turning back to Nicole. “Enjoy what?”

“Do you need your purse?” Nicole asks.

Waverly stares at her. “What’s going on?”

Nicole thinks for a minute, and then shakes her head. “If you need it…” She checks her watch. “You need to go get it now,” she says firmly. “We’re running tight on time.”

“Nicole,” Waverly warns.

“Just…” Nicole steps closer, her fingers sliding around the back of Waverly’s elbows, pressing gently. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Waverly breathes out. “But I do need my purse.”

Nicole’s eyes drift to Waverly’s mouth and she swallows hard. Standing in this hallway, the glint of fluorescent overhead lights reflecting off of Waverly’s necklace, Nicole feels eighteen again. She never had this moment, making out against her locker between class. They had moments in the bathroom, crammed into the last stall in between classes. But they never had what Doc and Wynonna had - pressed up against the cool metal lockers, making out while people walked by, a little disgusted, but mostly jealous.

It makes Nicole want to say  _ forget the concert _ . It makes Nicole want to walk Waverly backwards towards her old locker, in the math hallway, number 78, just so she can say she did it; she kissed her girl in front of her locker before her science class. It makes Nicole want to sneak up the stairs to the second floor bathroom, to see if their initials are still scratched into the stall wall, just to the side of the toilet paper holder. 

“Baby,” Waverly says.

Nicole blinks slowly and smiles a half-second too late. “Sorry. Go get your purse. I’ll be outside.”

Waverly is still frowning softly, still confused by Nicole’s plan, but she turns anyway and slips down the hall. Nicole jumps the bottom step as she goes back outside, spinning and leaning back against her car. She crosses one ankle over the other, her arms folded over her chest. 

She can practically hear Thompson Twins singing “If You Were Here.”

Waverly pushes through the front door and pauses on the steps, eyes narrowed against the high afternoon sun as she looks around. Nicole stretches a hand up, catching Waverly’s attention. 

Waverly smiles widely and skips down the steps, the skirt she wore today swishing around her knees. She stops in front of Nicole, throwing her arms around Nicole’s neck.

Nicole dips her head and kisses Waverly softly.

“Hi,” Waverly breathes out.

“Hey,” Nicole says, her mouth moving against Waverly’s.

“Are you busting me out of here?”

Nicole links her hands at the small of Waverly’s back. “I am.”

“And you have Claire covering my last class?”

Nicole frowns. “Claire?”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Ms. Daisy.”

“Oh,” Nicole says quietly. “I forget she had a first name. Is that totally lame?”

“Totally lame,” Waverly says. She stretches up on her tiptoes, nearly stepping on Nicole’s boots, and kisses her again. “What’re we doing?”

Nicole startles, unwinding her arms from Waverly’s waist. “Back up, back up,” she tells Waverly. She pulls open the passenger door, reaching into the paper bag Gus had given her. She couldn’t leave it at home; Waverly would have found it and asked what it was for. Instead, she asked Gus to keep it at The Patch, in the office, behind the old ledgers and budgets that no one had the heart to throw out. Curtis’s handwriting was scribbled all over them, and Nicole knows that sometimes, Wynonna will pull them out and spread them across the desk, studying the loops of his letters and the neat numbers. 

“Close your eyes,” she instructs.

Waverly sighs, but closes them, biting down on her bottom lip.

Nicole opens the bag carefully, pulling out a black shirt. It has  _ Hysteria _ written across the front, screened images of Joe Elliott, Phil Collen, Steve Clark, Rick Savage, and Rick Allen breaking out of the Def Leppard triangle. She tosses the bag back into the car; she’ll put her shirt on when they get to the concert. Wynonna’s voice is in her head, asking her about not bringing an iron, and she can’t help herself;  _ what if I wrinkle it _ , she wonders.

She holds it up in front of her body, snorting softly at Waverly bouncing on the tips of her toes impatiently. She waits another second, watching Waverly shift impatiently. Finally, she toes at Waverly’s ankle. “Open them.”

Waverly cracks one eye open, then the other. “A shirt?” she asks.

Nicole frowns. “Not just  _ any  _ shirt.”

“A  _ Hysteria _ tour shirt,” Waverly continues.

Nicole starts to smile. “Exactly.”

Waverly takes the shirt and holds it out in front of her. “Thank you, baby,” she says, her voice bordering on polite.

Nicole sighs. “You’re supposed to be excited.”

“About a shirt?”

“About wearing that shirt to the Def Leppard concert at the Thunderdome tonight,” Nicole corrects.

“The Def…” Waverly trails off. “Wait…”

“Happy Birthday?”

Waverly’s eyes widen. “Happy Birthday?”

Nicole looks over Waverly’s face, her smile fading as she searches for any sign of excitement in Waverly’s eyes. “I should have gone with  _ Rainbow Bright _ ,” she mutters under her breath. 

“My birthday isn’t until Sunday,” Waverly finally says.

Nicole runs a hand through her hair. “It’s a surprise, obviously. Even if it’s totally dull.”

“No, no,” Waverly rushes out. She grabs Nicole’s hand, pulling it close against her chest. “It’s not dull. This is… this is  _ clutch _ .”

“You’d rather go to see Madonna,” Nicole sighs. “She’s not on tour any more. I tried.”

“No,” Waverly repeats. She steps closer, her foot on the edge of the curb. She teeters forward, pressing against Nicole. “This is our band,” she says, her voice a whisper. She wiggles her eyebrows at Nicole.

Nicole feels her face flush. She remembered that; she told Wynonna that the other day by accident, and had to sit through a lecture on ‘appropriate things to talk about with your best friend who is also your girlfriend’s older sister.’

“I asked the guy from Ticketmaster, and he said he thinks they might play ‘Hysteria,’ even though it’s the  _ Slang _ tour,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly’s fingertips slide under Nicole’s white undershirt. “Def Leppard, huh?”

“Happy Birthday,” Nicole tries again.

“Happy Birthday,” Waverly repeats.

Nicole inhales, her breath ragged as Waverly leans a little more into her. She checks her Casio and winces. “But we have to get going,” she says. “We have to be in Edmonton by 1700.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve got a change of clothes in the car, some Orange Crush, and a bag of food that Gus put together for us.”

Waverly smiles. “And you totally picked me up early from school.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and reaches back blindly, pushing the passenger door closed. “Let’s go, dweeb.”

Waverly laces her fingers through Nicole’s as they round the front end of the car. She waits for Nicole to open the door and then she slides in. “Are we going home so I can pack?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I’ve got jeans and stuff for you.”

Waverly waits until Nicole gets into the car and pulls the door shut. “Don’t you have a shirt?”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip. “I do,” she says slowly. “I’m just going to wait to put it on.”

“Afraid you’re going to wrinkle it?” Waverly teases. Nicole stays quiet and Waverly’s mouth falls open. “For real?”

“You saw my shirt that night we went to celebrate Gus’s birthday!” Nicole says defensively. Wynonna’s joke hadn’t been wrong; she totally sat wrong in the car, and spent the rest of the night pressed against the wall so no one could see the crease running across her back.

Waverly laughs and settles into her side, peeking down at the small bag on the floor of the passenger side.

“Your clothes,” Nicole says.

Waverly smiles and presses a soft kiss to Nicole’s cheek as Nicole starts the car and pulls away from the high school.

Waverly waits until they get off of Main Street, turning onto Rt. 81 before she untucks her shirt from her skirt. She pulls the blouse up and over her head, chucking it into the backseat. She grins and wiggles her eyebrows at Nicole, and then puts on the  _ Hysteria _ shirt. She lifts her hips a little, undoing the clasp of the skirt and shimmying out of it. She picks her jeans up off the floor, lifts her hips again, and slides them on.

Nicole tries to focus on the road, but Waverly keeps leaning into her, her bare skin pressing against Nicole’s arm. Joe Elliott is singing, low and faraway with the speakers turned down, but Waverly is arching her hips up and buttoning her jeans, and Nicole can barely keep her front end on the road. The whole car jerks when Waverly gathers the hem of her  _ Hysteria _ shirt and ties it in a knot at the small of her back.

Waverly looks up, a hand against the dashboard to steady herself as Nicole straightens out the wheel. She lifts an eyebrow, biting down on her bottom lip. “Cool?”

“Like Vanilla Ice,” Nicole mutters.

“Want a soda?” Waverly offers.

Nicole nods gratefully, her mouth dry.

Waverly winks at her and turns, leaning over the bench seat to reach into the backseat.

Nicole swallows hard, her hands flexing against the steering wheel while Waverly rips the plastic off the case and frees one of the cans. She turns back around and slides down into her seat, cracking the top on the can and handing it to Nicole.

Nicole takes a long, greedy sip, licking her lips after she holds the can in one hand, the other on the wheel.

Waverly peels off her socks and wiggles her toes, tucking them up under her body. “I always thought you had a crush on her,” she says casually. “Claire, I mean.”

Nicole nearly spits out her mouthful of Orange Crush. “What?” she manages, wiping at the few drops of soda that landed on her steering wheel. She puts her can in the cup holder, careful not to spill any. 

Waverly shrugs. “It was always  _ Ms. Daisy this _ and  _ Ms. Daisy that _ .”

“I… I, uh…” Nicole rubs at the back of her neck. “Well…”

Waverly laughs and slides closer, until they’re sharing the driver’s seat. She pulls Nicole’s hand off the steering wheel carefully and drapes it over her shoulders. She breathes in deeply, her nose against Nicole’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I always kind of did, too.”

Nicole sighs and shakes her head, sinking back into her seat and resting her wrist on the top of her steering wheel. She tightens her grip on Waverly’s shoulder as Joe Elliott croons through the speakers.

“ _ Rocket, baby, guitar, drums, light up. We're gonna fly, rocket yeah. Satellite of love, we're gonna fly. _ ”

Waverly traces a heart on Nicole’s leg. 

Nicole pushes a little harder on the gas pedal and they rocket past the ‘Now Leaving Purgatory’ sign. 

 

-

“Wow,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole laughs, her arm around Waverly’s shoulder. “How many times are you going to say that?”

“As many times as I want to,” Waverly grumbles, digging her elbow into Nicole’s side.

Nicole pulls Waverly in tighter until both arms are around Waverly’s neck. She kisses the top of her head, letting her lips linger for a moment, just to breathe. They’re standing in the middle of the Edmonton Thunderdome, the Def Leppard letters high above the stage, and Nicole wonders why she never thought of this earlier.

“You know, Curtis promised to take me to a concert,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole pulls back a little. “What?”

“He said I could pick. The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, or Earth, Wind, & Fire.” Waverly rolls her eyes. “I told him I didn’t want to see his bands. I wanted to see Men At Work or Hall & Oates. Or Toto, even.”

“Toto,” Nicole groans.

Waverly pinches Nicole’s hip, her hands on Nicole’s waist. “You love ‘Africa’.”

“I love  _ you _ ,” Nicole corrects.

Waverly squints up at her. “But you listened to it so much.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No. I hated it.”

“You let me listen to it,” Waverly says slowly.

“I love you,” Nicole repeats.

“So every time I put it on, or didn’t let you take the tape out of the radio…”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “I love you,” she says again.

Waverly’s mouth opens slightly. “This whole time?”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “You really didn’t think I actually liked that song, did you?”

“I  _ thought  _ you did,” Waverly says. “What else have you been  _ lying _ about?”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, thinking for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that’s it.”

“So, you don’t like the bread I buy, and you don’t like ‘Africa’ by Toto,” Waverly says. She shakes her head. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.” She leans down again, her forehead against Waverly’s. “You might be the only one who knows me.”

Waverly’s body softens. “That’s not true,” she says. “Wynonna does, too.” Her hands ghost across Nicole’s sides to the small of her back. “I just know you differently.”

Waverly is right; Wynonna knows her just as well, but Waverly knows different things. She flushes, embarrassed, but Waverly smiles and presses her mouth to Nicole’s cheek.

Someone walks by them, talking loudly about the show starting soon, and Nicole moves back from Waverly, dropping her arm from Waverly’s neck and lacing their fingers together again, tugging her towards the seats listed on their ticket.

They’re in their matching  _ Hysteria _ tour shirts, holding hands, and something inside Nicole’s chest flutters heavily. Nicole rolled her sleeves up when they got out of the car, carefully folding them until they were just right. Waverly had climbed onto the hood of the car, finishing a can of Orange Crush while Nicole used the passenger window as a mirror. Waverly had pulled her hair out of it’s braid on the ride, letting the wind tangle the loose strands. She fingercombed it into place, but she still looked a little like Liv Tyler in Aerosmith’s “Crazy” music video. 

Nicole had stopped, her hands caught in her own shirt, to just  _ stare _ . 

Waverly, her shirt tied up t the small of her back, her hair loose and hanging around her face, her jeans on and her feet in sandals… Nicole had swallowed heavily and refolded her sleeves twice.

“Let’s go get our seats. The show’s starting in…” Nicole checks her watch. “A few minutes.”

They fight through the crowd to their seats just as the opening act, a band named Terrorvision, takes the stage.

“Curtis never took you?” Nicole practically shouts into Waverly’s ear.

Waverly frowns, turning away from the stage. Terrorvision is loud, and not in a good way. “What?”

Nicole presses her mouth against Waverly’s ear. “Curtis never took you to a concert?”

Waverly looks at her, shaking her head. “No, silly. He would have taken you, too.”

“Right,” Nicole breathes out.

“It was a long time ago,” Waverly says. “Right before…” She trails off, her eyes glazing over for a moment. “Right before-”

“I know,” Nicole says, wrapping an arm around Waverly’s waist. She kisses the side of Waverly’s head. “He would have picked the Eagles.”

“I don’t even know if they were touring then,” Waverly admits.

Nicole tips her head to the side, thinking for a minute. “Tell you what. If the Eagles ever go on tour together, we’ll go.”

Waverly laughs. “Okay.”

“You laugh like you don’t believe me, but I’m going to get tickets,” Nicole promises.

Waverly leans into her, her hand slipping in Nicole’s back pocket. “Okay,” she says, a little softer. “That sounds great, baby.” Her hand twitches in Nicole’s pocket. “He would have loved this.”

The crowd roars and Nicole looks up at the stage as smoke starts to blow out of the big machines on the side of the space. Waverly’s hand twitches in her own and her mouth hangs open.

“ _ Hold onto your hat, hold onto your heart _ ,” Joe Elliott starts. “ _ Ready, get set to tear this place apart. Don't need a ticket, only place in town that'll take you up to heaven and never bring you down. Anything goes, anything goes…” _

They sing along to “ Another Hit and Run,” “ Foolin',” “Animal,” and when “Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad” comes on, Nicole grips Waverly’s hand tightly and doesn’t let go until the band transitions into “Work It Out.”

The opening note of “Hysteria” starts as “Deliver Me” fades out, and the crowd screams loudly, a ripple of hands going up in the air. Waverly throws her arms up above her head, her hands dangerously close to Nicole’s face, and she pushes up on her toes, screaming along with them. “It’s our song!” she shouts at Nicole.

Nicole grins, reaching for Waverly’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“ _ Out of touch, out of reach _ ,” they sing along with Joe Elliott. 

She holds out until the chorus, but there’s a feeling in her stomach she can’t shake as she watches Waverly scream along at the top of her lungs. Nicole winds her fingers in Waverly’s shirt, nearly undoing the knot at the small of her back, and pulls hard, their mouths meeting just as the bridge starts.

“ _ I gotta know tonight _ ,  _ if you’re alone tonight _ .”

“Can’t stop this feeling,” Nicole murmurs, kissing Waverly again.

“ _ Can’t stop this fight. _ ”

Waverly pulls away and twists back towards the stage, her side still pressed against Nicole’s front as she screams along with the crowd.

“ _ I get hysterical, hysteria! _ ”

 

-

Nicole is still buzzing, the synthesizer pulsing through her bloodstream and the drums in her ears. Her whole body is humming like she stood too close to the speakers, and she can barely feel Waverly’s hand in her own as they weave through the crowd back to the Bonneville. “Rock of Ages” is still playing, a looped instrumental, and it drifts from the Thunderdome into the parking lot. 

Waverly laughs and pulls her to the right, around a white Ford passenger van. Nicole can feel the cold aluminum frame through the thin material of her shirt, but Waverly is warm as she presses against her front, her hands sliding up Nicole’s arms and under her sleeves. She kisses Nicole, her tongue pushing against Nicole’s lips for a moment before someone on the other side of the van, far into the parking lot, hollers.

Waverly breaks away with a laugh, kissing Nicole one more time before grabbing her by the hand and running through the parked cars. 

“I get hysterical!” she shouts.

“ _ Hysteria _ !” someone yells back. 

Nicole feels something in her chest pulse like Rick Savage’s guitar lodged itself in there. Waverly lets go of her hand and sways as she walks, arms above her head. The bottom of her shirt rides up and Nicole’s hands ache just a little to touch the line of skin above her waistband.

“God,” Waverly breathes out as they get to Nicole’s car. She leans back against the hood, her body stretched out. Nicole inhales sharply. “The way Rick Allen can do  _ so much _ with just one arm.”

“He’s probably the best drummer in the world,” Nicole agrees, stepping closer. Her toes bump against Waverly’s.

“For sure,” Waverly says, her voice still hushed. She sits up a little, hooking one finger through Nicole’s belt loop. She tugs hard and Nicole’s hips jump as she stumbles forward. “Probably the universe.”

“For sure,” Nicole echoes.

Waverly threads her other hand into Nicole’s shirt, pulling her closer until they’re kissing. Nicole puts a hand out to brace herself, holding herself up above the hood of her car.

_ This is why cars were invented _ , she thinks to herself.  _ To kiss women on _ .  _ To kiss  _ one _ woman on _ .

Waverly moans softly and Nicole’s eyes open. The noise from the crowd filters back into her ears. The instrumental “Rock of Ages” has faded out into the hum of the parking lot lights high above then. She flushes, buries her face in Waverly’s neck, and laughs. 

“We should go,” she murmurs.

Waverly sighs, her fingertips digging into the back of Nicole’s neck. It takes a second for Nicole to realize she’s tapping out the melody to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” Waverly pushes at Nicole until they’re face to face. “Do we have to?”

Nicole groans as Waverly’s fingers press hard into the base of her neck before they walk a line around her neck and down the center of her chest. “Yes,” she finally manages. “I didn’t book a room.”

“Dweeb,” Waverly says.

“I know,” Nicole drags out. “Gus offered me the money for it, too.”

Waverly’s eyes widen. “And you didn’t take it?”

“I have work tomorrow,” Nicole says. “But maybe next year, for your birthday, we can go somewhere nice. You know, get a room?”

Waverly’s eyes widen. “Officer Haught, what are you suggesting?”

Nicole opens her mouth, but someone bumps into her car, bouncing off the driver’s door. “ _ Woah _ , bitchin’ car.” He pushes his long hair out of his eyes. There’s something familiar about him, but Nicole can’t place it. “Sorry about that.”

Nicole swallows hard against the lump in her throat and lifts a hand in a short wave. “No… No big deal.”

He keeps looking at her, his eyes narrowing even though there’s a smile on his face. He shakes his head slightly.

“David!”

The man turns to look behind him, glancing at Nicole one more time before he takes off in the direction of the person calling. 

“Wow,” Waverly says, laughing softly, pulling Nicole’s attention back. “I almost believed that.”

“He had  _ jeans _ on, Waverly,” Nicole says, immediately moving around the car to inspect the door. There’s no scratches on it that she can see, but it’s dark and she’ll check again in the morning. 

Her eyes widen when she realizes that Waverly is wearing jeans, too. She slips her hands under Waverly’s thighs and lifts her into the air, ignoring the way Waverly screams and clutches at her shoulders. Nicole drops her down in front of the car, turning back quickly to check the hood of her car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Waverly says, brushing off the front of her jeans. “How did I fall in love with such a drama queen?”

Nicole smoothes her hand across the hood, but there’s nothing there. She looks into the dark parking lot, but the guy from before is gone. She shakes her head softly; he had seemed so familiar, but she doesn’t know why.  _ Maybe he was near us inside the stadium _ , she reasons with herself. She’s still staring into the darkness when Waverly’s hand slips into her own.

“Baby?” Waverly asks quietly. “You okay?”

Nicole shakes her head again and smiles. “For sure,” she promises. She kisses the top of Waverly’s head. “Let’s get out of here.” She pulls the driver’s door open and sweeps her arm across her body, pitching forward. “After you.”

Waverly laughs and slides into the car, moving across the bench seat. She keeps going, reaching for the glove compartment, and opens it. She fishes through it until she finds a tape. She holds it up under the lights and cheers.

Nicole turns the car on and Waverly presses eject on the tap deck, swapping the tapes.

“You’re killing me,” Nicole mumbles.

It’s too dark to see it, but Nicole can almost feel Waverly roll her eyes.

“You just took  _ Hysteria _ out and put it into the  _ High N’ Dry _ case,” Nicole says, navigating them through the parking lot.

Waverly sighs.

“It’s not a big deal,” Nicole says.

“Exact-”

“But it  _ is _ ,” Nicole adds quickly. “Because if I want to listen to  _ High N’ Dry _ and open it, what’ll be in there? Or, or, if I want to listen to  _ Hyster _ -”

Waverly sighs again, cutting her off. She opens the glove compartment again and pulls out the  _ Hysteria _ case, switching the tape and tossing both cases back.

“Thank you,” Nicole says quietly.

Waverly narrows her eyes, but smiles after a minute and kisses Nicole’s cheek, close to her ear. “I just like when you get all juiced up about it,” she admits.

Nicole elbows her gently and follows the line of cars ahead of them onto the highway, smiling when Waverly only slides closer and moves her hand over Nicole’s knee, curling her fingers into the denim of her jeans. 

It takes a while before they’re the only car on the road, but all of the traffic goes back into Edmonton; no one is headed up the highway to Purgatory at 0230 in the morning.

It’s early September and too cool for the windows to be open, but Waverly cranks both of them down and lets the wind whip through the car. She sings along to “Let It Go” with Joe Elliott while Nicole taps out the bass line on the steering wheel.

“ _ Cool woman, cool eyes. You got me hypnotized. So head down, get a rhythm, stop your stalling and your bitching _ ,” they sing. 

Waverly lifts up a little, tucking one leg under her body. “Thank you, baby.”

Nicole looks over for a second, frowning. She looks back at the road, her headlights the only thing stretching out ahead of her. “For what?”

“This birthday present,” Waverly says.

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip. “Was it-”

“If you ask me if it was okay,” Waverly warns.

“ _ I'm rock steady, I'm still shaking. I'm ready for the taking. _ ”

Nicole feels her face flush. “Okay, okay.”

Waverly moves closer. “I loved it. I love  _ you _ .”

Nicole ducks her head, letting one hand fall off the wheel and lace through Waverly’s. 

They go through the tape and Waverly turns it back over, “Let It Go” coming on just as they pull off the main highway. Waverly’s hand twitches in Nicole’s, the air just a little cooler here at the edge of town than it was coming from the city.

“ _ Let it rock, let it, let it roll, let it _ ,” Waverly sings. “ _ Let it go, let it… _ ”

The wind whips through her hair again, curling it around Waverly’s shoulders. It tickles Nicole’s bare arm. Waverly’s eyes are closed, her tongue wetting her bottom lip. Her shirt is still tied back and her feet are bare, propped up on the dashboard.

Nicole slows down a little bit as they pass the ‘Now Entering Purgatory’ sign, just to hold onto this moment a little longer. 


End file.
